


If at first you don't succeed...

by theallelse



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Episode: s08e17 Goodbye Stranger, Gen, Goodbye Stranger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-22
Updated: 2013-03-22
Packaged: 2017-12-06 02:58:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/730764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theallelse/pseuds/theallelse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spoilers for Season 08 Episode 17: Goodbye Stranger. </p><p>Castiel's reactions to Naomi's teaching methods.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If at first you don't succeed...

**#1**  


His body convulses in revolt, doubles over as his final backhand reverberates around the hangar. The orders are shrill in his ears. They never cease. He closes his eyes, head shaking, and slides the blade in deep.  


**#97**  


He seeks imperfections in the body at his feet. A stray freckle. A wrinkle that creases too deeply. _Anything_. But it is an exact replica.  


Another method of detachment is required.  


**#220**  


Echoes of past conversations, conjured from the depths of his mind, work to momentarily distract him. Of overcoming archangels and Leviathan and purgatory. Shared experiences tearing him in two. He receives a scolding for losing sight of their goal; the only way forward is to block it all out. He is mocked for his love.  


The memories begin to lose their sanctity. He loses the grip he had held so tightly.  


**#503**  


In the first instance, if he exerts as much brute force as his vessel will allow, the pleading never comes. A broken jaw provides him with a moment’s respite from the sound of desperation.  


**#849**  


It is done, yet still he hears his voice. A whisper at first. Not begging. _Praying_. He flinches from the hand on his shoulder, leaning into the words as they grow louder in his mind, keening at the sound of his nickname. His gaze drifts over his surroundings, his atrocities plain to see. He stumbles blindly, longing to hear just one more line of supplication, to remove himself from this ever-increasing graveyard.  


**#850**  


He refuses.  
He protests.  
He implores.  
He weeps.  
He accepts.  


**#943**  


The ache begins to fade as the blood pools around his shoes.  


**#1002**  


A muscle spasms below his left cheekbone. His eyes water. Warm words whispered in approval.  


**#1074**  


His upper lip quirks in annoyance as his blade catches on a rib.  


**#1159**  


Nothing.  
Finally, he is ready.


End file.
